I swallowed against a sudden thickness in my throat. Love hurt.
Leaning forward, Sani placed his hand against the new grass. His outline shimmered and in a flash, he was a coyote again. His mate bounded out of the trees, jumping onto his back and then rolling onto hers, presenting her belly in perfect beta submission. She’d obviously never cared that he was different, that he wasn’t completely a coyote. True love never did.
They began to run off. “Hey!” I whistled. “Buddy.”
Sani stopped then nuzzled his mate, who disappeared into the trees, before trotting back.
“Forget anything?” I asked. He tilted his head. I pointed at the rock where the fetish lay buried. “I paid, you talk.”
For an instant I feared that giving Sani the icon had taken away his voice. But I guess once a talking coyote, always a talking coyote, because he spoke. “There is someone you must see, but it won’t be easy.”
“Wow. Not easy,” I deadpanned. “That’s new.”
He ignored me. I guess age does grant wisdom.
“If you still want to bring Sawyer forth, only this man possesses the knowledge of how.”
“Who is he, and where can I find him?”
“You’ll find Mait in an old church near New Orleans.”
New Orleans. The perfect place for someone who could raise a ghost.
“How near New Orleans?”
“Honey Island Swamp. Look for the crossroads.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“No. But I doubt there are very many abandoned churches in the swamp at a crossroads.”
“There better not be,” I muttered. “So this guy is a bokor?”
“He came from Haiti ages ago, but he’s not a voodoo priest. He’s more of a magical bodyguard, named after Mait-Carrefour—the god of magicians. He’s a bringer of bad luck and the ruler of night demons.”
“What is he?” I spread my hands. “A voodoo spirit? A god?”
“I’m not sure. He protects things. He makes magic. I’ve heard he’s a necromancer as well.”
I spread my hands wider.
“A witch who can raise the dead, usually for purposes of divination. Sometimes with the entrails of the dearly departed.”
I couldn’t wait to meet this guy.
“How does he do all this?” I asked.
“He uses a book of prophecy and magic.”
I stilled. “What kind of book?”
“Grimoire.”
The Key of Solomon. Had something actually come easily?
“In it are spells that reveal mysteries beyond the understanding of humans, along with hints of how to win the coming war between good and evil. They say it was dictated by a demon to his offspring here on earth. Mait keeps it near him at all times, and protects those secrets with his life.”
A chill wind seemed to sweep across the mountain, though not a single gust stirred the trees.
Not the Key of Solomon. The Book of Samyaza.
“How do you know about this?” I asked.
“I am not completely cut off from the world.”
“Yet you didn’t know that Ruthie or Sawyer was dead.”
“I haven’t exactly been in contact with those on the side of the light.”
“Still, I’d think the forces of doom would be thrilled to inform you that we’d lost both our leader and a powerful ally.”
Sani huffed breath through his nose. “I did know you’d lost your leader. When I was banished, however, Ruthie was but an underling.”
Ruthie an underling? I couldn’t imagine it.
I opened my mouth to ask about her past, about the previous leader of the light. Sani spoke instead. “And I have my doubts that Sawyer is dead, as well as whose side he’s actually on.”
I had doubts about that, too.
“Mait is protecting the grimoire,” Sani continued. “He has killed everyone who has tried to take it from him.”
“You think it’s a good idea for me to visit a guy who keeps Satan’s handbook on his nightstand?”
“I think that if you want to talk to Sawyer, you’ll have to. Besides—” Sani’s coyote shoulders rippled in a canine shrug. “—he can’t kill you.”
Even if he could, it didn’t matter. I had to get my hands on that book—and not just to raise Sawyer. According to legend, whoever carried the Book of Samyaza was invincible.
Which made me wonder why—if they had it—the Nephilim weren’t already marching across the earth, laying waste to cities, and munching on the citizenry like a never-ending human buffet. I guess I’d just have to go and find out.
Sure, I was nervous. Not only was I going to meet with a half demon who’d been assigned by other half demons—or maybe a whole demon, who knew?—to protect what amounted to the Holy Grail of the Apocalypse, but I was being sent there by someone I trusted about as much as I’d once trusted Sawyer.
Sawyer had walked the line between good and evil, but Sani? I thought he lived over there in the dark. Why else would Sawyer have banished him?